Grunt Work
by Sigmund Fraud
Summary: A wounded Alliance soldier is taken in and nursed by a troll priestess who lives alone in the Swamp of Sorrows.
1. On the Brink of Death

_This is how I'm going to die...Isn't it? _

I clutched my chest as I waded through the foul-smelling and brackish waters of the swamp, my body wracked with immeasurable pain. I was also hot, so very hot. I could feel beads of sweat pouring down my bloodied face. My breathing was hard and heavy and I could feel my heart beating rapidly within my chest. Everything was becoming a blur and I was finding it difficult – No, impossible, to gather my thoughts.

_Not in the defense of the Alliance... _

My armor was caked in blood, most of it my own. I was feeling dizzy, light-headed. It was a struggle to remain conscious. My blood continued to spill, the pungent, olive-green swamp-water turning crimson. I could feel the last of my strength being sapped away.

_But alone in some stinking swamp. _

I shambled out of the water, my body trembling, my armor rattling. I felt weak, incredibly weak, my legs turning to pudding. I could no longer find the strength to continue. My legs then finally buckled and I collapsed under a massive willow. Everything was spinning and the heat was becoming unbearable. It was making me nauseous and I could feel my stomach beginning to turn. My throat was on fire, and it continued to burn, even after I had vomited my last meal all over the moist earth. I coughed, which only agitated my sore throat even further. Everything hurt. Every bone and every muscle ached.

_I wonder if anyone will find me out here...? _

I closed my eyes, awaiting death's sweet release...


	2. Jin'za

My eyes opened.

_Am I...? _

I felt a sharp pain in my ribs. I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes.

_Yes, yes I am._

I opened my eyes again, the pain having subsided. I was alive, that much I knew. What I didn't know was _how_. My eyes darted from left to right. Everything was still a blur, but I knew that I was no longer under that massive willow. I blinked, trying to focus my vision. Above me was a thatch roof.

_Where am I...? _

I clenched my teeth, my ribs hurting as I attempted to sit up. I had apparently been resting in some bed. For how long, I did not know. My head hurt and it felt like my brain was pounding against the inner walls of my skull. I looked down to see that I was completely naked. Wrapped 'round my chest was bunch of bandages, all of which were heavily blood-soaked. Whoever dressed my wound did an excellent job. I turned my head and looked around. I was inside what looked like a large hut. The walls were adorned with these odd wooden masks, all of which were painted. Some were decorated with what I believe were feathers from a strider. There was something eerily familiar about these masks, but I was still too light-headed to say what. I did know that I have not once seen thesemasks in particular, however. Resting against a wall on the other side of where I had apparently been convalescing was my armor. It was still caked in blood and the tabard was slightly torn. Next to my armor was my sword, it still in its sheath. My shield was nowhere to be found.

"Well look who decided ta' wake up."

I turned my head to see a woman enter the hut.

_No... _

Before me was a troll. My eyes caught a brief glimpse of the large wooden masks that adorned the walls. It then finally dawned on me. This was a troll home. "Ya' feelin' any betta' mon?" The troll would ask me. I didn't answer. I only eyed the troll in silence. She wore a very crude, primitive-looking robe that exposed much of her blue skin. 'Round her neck was a tangled mess of necklaces, charms, fetishes, and amulets, most of which were crafted from the bones and teeth of various creatures. In her hand was a long wooden staff that was topped with a skull and had more of those odd trinkets hanging off of it. She had long dark-green braids that spilled over her slender shoulders. Her face was concealed behind a large wooden mask that had been painted to vaguely resemble a skull. I could make-out her tusks, however. They were long. They were sharp. "What be da' matta' mon?" She asked, "Ya' never seen anyone as pretty as me?" She then threw her head back and cackled, striking the ground with her macabre staff. "Da' name be Jin'za. How 'bout you?"

I worked up the courage to answer the troll named Jin'za, me stumbling over each and every word that escaped my lips, "I-I'm Richard. R-Richard C-Caulfield." I was afraid, very afraid. I heard many dark and terrible stories about trolls. I've heard of their twisted magical practices and how they would often devour the hearts of their victims. I've heard tales of shrunken heads and of dark, agonizing curses, of sacrifices to ancient, primal gods and of regenerating limbs. I looked at my sword still resting against the wall behind the troll.

_If only I had my sword! _

"Well 'den Richard, ya' should be countin' yer' blessins' mon." She approached me, the end of her staff tapping against the floor, "If it weren't for ole' Jin'za, ye'd be crocolisk food mon." I gulped, my eyes meeting hers as they looked down at me from behind that large wooden mask. "Wh-What are you going to do to m-me...?" She leaned forward, her hair pouring over her shoulders, her long, messy braids mingling with the hundreds of trinkets, charms, and amulets that hung 'round her neck. I could feel her warm, putrid breath on my face. She reached for the tip of my chin, and then, in a whisper, said, "It not be what Jin'za gonna' be doin' to ya', but what ya' gonna' do for Jin'za." She turned my head. I could feel her eying my body, sizing me up, and it was making me very uncomfortable. I almost wanted to get away from the troll, but I couldn't. Partly because of my aching ribcage and partly because I was afraid of what this Jin'za might do to me if I tried. "I always be' wantin' a pretty lil' pink-skin to do some work for ole' Jin'za!" She smiled, showing-off those disgusting yellowed teeth. It made my skin crawl. "...But ya' still be plenty hurt mon. You jes' rest for ole' Jin'za and when ya' get ta' feelin' a little betta', I'll have some work for ye'."

_What sort of work...? _

I then felt Jin'za's hand gliding down my chest before finally settling where she had apparently dressed my wound. She pressed the palm of her hand against my ribcage. I clenched my teeth and instantly shut my eyes, feeling that sharp pain swiftly traveling up my spine. "You jes' relax mon. Let ole' Jin'za take care o' ye'..." I felt an odd warmth near my chest. I opened one eye to see Jin'za's hand glowing. And, as it glowed, the pain was beginning to subside. I was feeling less tense, too, relaxed, even. It felt nice. "'Dere we go. 'Dat should help wit' da' pain for a while. But ya' still need plenty o' rest mon." She pulled the blanket over me in one swift motion. "Sleep well mon, 'cause there be a lot o' work to be done 'round 'ere."

_I think I'd rather take my chance with the crocolisks... _


	3. Hell

The next few days were spent entirely in bed rest.

Or maybe it was weeks...?

Or months?

Or perhaps it had even been years...

I wasn't so sure anymore.

But it did feel as though I had spent an eternity on that bed, regardless. It was driving me crazy, not being able to do _anything_ but "rest". I was alone, too. Most of the time, anyway. The only thing that kept me company throughout the day were my own thoughts, of which I had plenty.

_Would anyone back at Marshtide Watch know that I went missing...? _

_What about my Delilah? Timothy? Sarah? _

_Am I to spend the rest of my life a prisoner to this troll? _

Every morning and every night, Jin'za would come and feed me. In her hand would be a wooden bowl filled with slop or some sort-of strange stew made from an assortment of vegetables. It was..._Edible_. And whenever she came to deliver me my food, she would always sit on the very edge of the bed and join me. Neither of us spoke a _word _to one another. And, whenever we dined, I always found myself eying my sword. I kept thinking to myself, _if only I could muster the strength to grab my sword, I could escape from this wretched hut! _After I had finished my "meal", if you could even _call_ it that, Jin'za would then tend to my wound. She would disappear soon afterward, and I would never see her again until the next meal.

One day, however, she came to me before nightfall, an article of clothing draped neatly over her arm. "Here ya' go mon, put 'dese on before 'da morrow." She then tossed me the article of clothing. On closer inspection, these were shorts. They were a dark-red and had a patch on the right leg. It was perhaps the _ugliest _pair of shorts I had ever laid eyes on. I dug through the pockets and I fished what looked like a business card. I flipped it over and held it up to what little light was left.

**Krazzle Blastmaster **

**of **

**Blastmaster Explosives **

**Bombs? Mines? Rockets? You want it, I've got it! **

It hit me. These weren't shorts. These were goblin pants.

"I found 'em on a dead goblin far from 'ere mon. Jin'za be tinkin' he won't be usin' 'em where he be goin'." Her words were followed by a loud cackle, "It ain't much mon, but Jin'za be tinkin' it could pass for a pair o' shorts on a pink-skin." I folded the "shorts" and then set them aside without a word. "Not much of a talka', ain't'cha' mon? What be da' matta'? Ya' captivated by my beauty or sometin'?" She smiled, shifting all her weight on one foot, both hands now clutching that gnarled wooden staff. "Jin'za be tinkin' ya' be feelin' much betta' now. First 'ting in 'da mornin', ya' gonna' help ole' Jin'za 'round 'da home. 'Deres a lot o' work ta' be done before Jin'za even 'tink of lettin' ya' go!" She struck the ground with her staff as she turned her back on me, "Sleep well mon." I could then only watch in horror as I saw Jin'za reach for the hilt of my sword on the way out. She held it up, displaying my own sword before me. "What be da' matta' mon? Dun' 'tink I had not noticed ya' eyin' ya' sword. Ya' have to be wakin' up pretty early in da' mornin' to get past ole Jin'za mon." I was breathless, my mouth agape. My only means of escape was being taken away from me. "I'll jes' be puttin; 'dis in a nice, safe place mon."

_I'm in hell._


	4. Herb Farming

"Wake up mon!"

I rolled onto my side and pulled the blanket over my head. I heard a loud sigh, and then, I felt the blanket being swiftly pulled away from me. I instinctively tried to grab the blanket, but was only pawing away at the air. I opened my eyes to see Jin'za standing over me, a great big, leather satchel slung over her right shoulder. She grabbed for my "shorts" and then dropped it between my legs. "Unless ya' wantin' ta' be spendin' all day in da' swamp naked, I suggest ya' hurry and put ya' clothes on mon. Ya' gonna' be helpin' ole Jin'za gather some herbs." I groaned as I sat up in bed, blinking furiously to try and focus my vision. I was no longer in pain, but my ribcage was still a little sore. I prayed to the Light that this Jin'za wasn't a harsh taskmistress. "We 'dun have all day mon." She said, "'Da swamp be its safest in da' mornin'. All da' nasty lil' beasties are asleep." I nodded, crawling out of bed. My movements were slow and I nearly fell over trying to stand. Spending all that time in bed took a toll on my legs. "Good, good...Ya' can stand. Now get dressed mon."

I got dressed. Being goblin pants, it was a tight fit.

_This is humiliating... _

* * *

It was hot, but thankfully, the heat was a little more bearable this time without all that heavy armor weighing me down. I followed Jin'za as we traversed the swamp. I wanted to escape. A part of me wanted to just take off into the wilderness. But I didn't. I didn't know _where _I was in the Swamp of Sorrows and without my sword, I run the risk of being devoured by Light only knows what lurks beneath the surface of these muddy, foul-smelling waters. And, even if I _did _know where to go, I would more than likely be smote by the troll in-front of me. I also wasn't going to risk disabling her. I had my doubts she would pose a physical threat to me. What I _was _worried about was her magic. If I fail in disabling her, she'd probably kill me with but a wave of her hand.

"Ah! 'Dere we go..."

She gestured at an odd-looking weed growing next to a moss-covered rock. "Blindweed! An uncommon sight in da' swamp mon." She nodded at the weed, "Well? Go an' get it mon."

_As though I have a choice... _

My feet sank into the moist ground as I approached the weed. I bent down and grabbed it, wrapping my fingers 'round the stems. With a groan I pulled it out of the ground, leaving only its roots behind. That was a mistake.

_Whack~! _

I yelled in pain, dropping the weed to nurse the top of my head. "What do ya' 'tink ya' be doin' mon?" She asked, a hint of venom in her words, "I be needin' 'da roots mon, 'udderwise, it be useless ta' Jin'za!" I cringed, running my hand through my hair, "...I wish you would've told me." I said between clenched teeth. "So ya' finally speak up! 'Dat's good mon." She said, resting her staff on a slender shoulder, "Well, 'jes dun' be doin' it again mon. Else Jin'za be turnin' ya' into a toad!"

Morning soon turned to day and still we both trekked through the swamp. My skin now shone from sweat, Jin'za's too, her robe now sticking to her body. I was hungry, and, perhaps more-so, thirsty. I was beginning to pant, beads of sweat rolling down my forehead. The heat didn't seem to bother the troll, however. My throat was dry and every bone in my body ached. I was soon caked in muck from having to bend down to pick herbs whilst under the watchful eyes of Jin'za. My hands dug into the mud and moist earth while the sun beat down on my bare back. I was careful not to damage the roots, but it seemed to me that no matter how hard I try, I would, on occasion, fail, and as a consequence, I was made to endure another whack from Jin'za's staff, followed by a brief reprimand. It wasn't long until my head was sore from all the beatings. Worse still, I was beginning to smell worse than an unwashed ogre's backside.

_A champion of the Alliance, now some troll's lowly servant. _

The thought disgusted me. I turned my head to spit.


	5. Remembrance

"May I ask a question?"

"Ya' may."

"What are all these herbs for?"

I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand in one slow motion, smearing dark-colored mud all-across my forehead. My legs were numb from all the walking, my feet caked in dried mud. My arms felt weak and my hands were trembling. My shoulders were sore and I could feel a sharp pain in my lower-back. "'Dere be a lil' greenskin in Bogpaddle 'dat pay good coin for 'dese herbs mon." She answered as she continued to lead the way, not once turning her attention away from what lay before her. "B-Bogpaddle...?" I asked, licking my lips, tasting my own sweat. "Ya' mon, we be headin' 'dat way tomorrow." I could barely contain my excitement. I grinned for the first time in what seemed like forever to me. Bogpaddle was a goblin settlement, and, like most goblin settlements, they were neutral grounds. I knew this because me and my fellow men, Light bless them, stopped at Bogpaddle on the way to Marshtide Watch. We were all reinforcements called in from Lakeshire. The plan was to stop and rest at Bogpaddle before continuing to Marhstide Watch, which we did.

It was on the way _to _Marshtide Watch where everything suddenly went so horribly wrong.

I could still remember what happened. Me and my fellow men were traveling down the road that led from Bogpaddle to Marshtide Watch. The trip, while a little rough, wasn't particularly difficult. The worst thing that had happened before "the incident" was when we were attacked by an angry strider in the middle of the road. No one was hurt, thank the Light. Well, no one was hurt except the strider, anyway.

Then _they _came...

From out of the shadows, these short and grotesque creatures attacked me and my fellow men. They descended upon us swiftly and though we tried to fight them off, we failed. It all happened so fast too. All I could remember are the sounds of battle-cries and the shrill screams of my brothers as they were slain one by one. I remember our horses fleeing into the swamp, and I believe one of our horses was soon picked off by a crocolisk on hitting the water. It was terrible and soon I was the only one of our reinforcements that remained. I remember staring down what I believe was a raiding party, alone. I could recall their razor-sharp fangs, their twisted faces, and those menacing, glowing eyes peering up at me from beneath their tattered hoods.

I ran.

I had hoped that I would lose the mongrels in the swamp. I was wrong, and I payed dearly for it. If it wasn't for that wind serpent, those filthy animals probably would have finished me off. In-hindsight, I wished they did...

Jin'za suddenly stopped before a river. She then turned to face me, puncturing the soft ground with the end of her staff. She looked at me expectantly from behind her mask. "Well mon...?" She asked, one hand on her hip. I looked right into her eyes and quirked a brow, unsure of what exactly it was she was asking of me. "W-Well, "what"?" She huffed and then performed a slow sweeping motion with her arm, gesturing toward the river. "Aint'cha' gonna' carry me mon?" I blinked, slightly taken aback by her words. "What?"

"Is dat' not what a propa' gentlemen do mon? An' 'ere Jin'za be tinkin' ya' Alliance-types enjoy bein' da' "knight in da' shinin' armor"."

"W-W-Well I-I mean-"

"Besides, Jin'za dun' be wantin' all 'dat swamp water getting' into Jin'za's things and ruinin' Jin'za's herbs mon."

"M-Makes sense, but, ah-"

"Do ya' want ta' spend da' rest o' ya' days hoppin' n' croakin' mon?"

I sighed, defeated. I then took a deep breath and positioned myself behind the troll.

_I can not believe I am actually doing this... _

It was a very awkward experience, carrying the troll, one that I had prayed to the Light I would never have to do again. Ever.


End file.
